


The Uncharted Job

by Elaewin



Category: Leverage, Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Heist, Post Season 4, between Uncharted 3 & 4, hardison is a nerd, how does this not already exist, too many nates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 18:44:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15125597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elaewin/pseuds/Elaewin
Summary: When the team is hired to recover a stolen family heirloom, they cross paths with one of Sophie's old flames.





	The Uncharted Job

Sophie Devereaux paused at the top of the curving stairs and looked over the crowd of tuxedos and evening gowns. Strings of soft yellow lights glowed in the warm California night along the stairway and above the crowd. The ridiculously large courtyard at the bottom of the stairs was bordered on two sides by blocky pillars and scrollwork iron railings overlooking Malibu and the Pacific Ocean. The third side led up to a softly lit arcade in the side of a massive Spanish Revival mansion.

The somberly dressed servant who had led Sophie from the driveway through the gardens on the fourth side gave her a half-bow, and disappeared silently back down the path.

A small band was playing in the far corner, although the music was largely drowned out by conversations and laughter. Waiters wove through the crowd with trays of champagne, while a trio of bartenders worked feverishly under the arcade, doling out cocktails. As she started down the stairs, Sophie murmured, “I’m here.”

 _“It’s about time,”_ Eliot growled over the com in her ear _._ He sounded annoyed. Then again, he usually did.

“Sorry,” said Sophie. “The drive up took longer than I expected.”

 _“It’s fine,”_ Nate replied calmly. _“We’re all in position.”_

Sophie scanned the crowd again, noting the locations of her team. Eliot stood near the band, wearing false glasses and a tuxedo with casual style. Nate, also in a tuxedo but looking much more formal, was at the base of the stairs chatting with a tall woman with tawny brown skin and a sleek black chignon. Hardison was one of the trio of bartenders, and Parker was threading her way through the crowd with a half empty tray of champagne flutes.

“Where’s our boy?” Sophie asked.

 _“In the middle, heading your way,”_ said Parker.

As Sophie reached the bottom of the stairs, the crowd parted in front of her. Vincent Montez, the party’s host, strode through the gap, a smile on his face. “Doctor Shepherd, I’m so glad you could make it!” the mark said, taking both of her hands in his and kissing the air on either side of her face. The faint waft of his aftershave smelled expensive. Montez’s greying black hair was perfectly styled above his deeply tanned face, and his tuxedo was immaculate.

He stepped back, still holding her hands, and looked her up and down. “You look fabulous, my dear,” he said.

Sophie smiled at him as he tucked her right hand under his left arm, and turned to lead her into the throng. “It’s so kind of you to meet me, Mr. Montez,” she said, looking slightly overwhelmed by the posh crowd.

“Oh, you must call me Vincent,” Montez said. “And shall I call you Jane?” he murmured, leaning closer to her.

For some reason, Hardison was snickering over the coms.

Endeavoring to ignore Hardison, Sophie let her smile at Montez grow a bit. “Please do,” she said, sounding slightly breathless.

Montez beamed possessively at Sophie, and waved with his free hand at a nearby waiter. Parker slipped smoothly over at his gesture, and presented her tray of champagne. Montez handed a glass to Sophie, took one of his own, and Parker faded back into the crowd, blonde ponytail bobbing behind her.

“There is someone I want you to meet,” said Montez.

“Of course,” said Sophie.

Montez led her slowly through the crowd, chatting idly about his work and pointing out some of the more famous guests. Sophie hung on his arm and his words, and made appreciative noises at all the right times.

 _“Is he trying to sound like Ricardo Montalban?”_ asked Hardison. _“Because I don’t remember him having an accent in the stuff I found online.”_

_“It’s a recent affectation, over the last decade or so,”_ said Nate.  _“Much like his fascination with the Spanish colonies in America.”_

_“He sure does sound like an asshole,”_ muttered Parker.

“Doctor Shepherd” did her best to tune out the rest of the team.

Eventually, Montez led Sophie over to the iron balustrade opposite the house. Near one of the pillars, a man with greying hair and a taller man with tousled brown hair stood with their backs to the rest of the crowd, looking towards the Pacific. As they approached the pair, the taller man leaned over and said something, and he and the shorter man laughed.

“Mr. Sullivan!” Montez called out.

Both men turned.

Both were pleasantly handsome, with tanned skin several shades lighter than their host's. The shorter man’s thick hair was a mix of dark brown and grey, and slicked straight back from his forehead. He had blue eyes surrounded with laugh lines under thick eyebrows and an equally thick mustache. He pulled a cigar from his mouth as he turned.

The taller man was much younger and clean-shaven, with grey eyes and an easy smile.

“Mr. Montez,” said the older man. “Great party.” He had a deep voice, and a slight northeastern accent. He gave Sophie a polite but thorough once over, and a charming smile. “Who do we have here?”

“Doctor Jane Shepherd,” said Montez, “Allow me to introduce Mr. Victor Sullivan.” He gestured towards the man with the cigar.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sullivan,” said Sophie, shaking the man’s hand.

“Please, call me Sully,” said Sullivan. He hesitated slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor.”

“And this is Mr. Nathan Drake,” said Montez, pausing while Sophie shook Drake’s hand as well. “They are my retrieval team,” Montez continued. “Once you verify that the map is genuine, these gentlemen will be the ones following it.”

 _“What?”_ said Nate. _“Where the hell did these two come from?”_

_“I thought Montez agreed to let Sophie arrange the retrieval?”_ said Parker.

 _“He did,”_ said Nate.

“I didn’t realize you had your own people already,” Sophie said to Montez, wrinkling her forehead in confusion. “You said you needed me to—”

“Yes, of course,” interrupted Montez, “But these two came highly recommended. And this way you don’t have to worry about finding anyone.”

“But—” Sophie tried again, but stopped as one of the wait staff came up and whispered something in Montez’s ear.

As Montez listened, his smile was replaced with a look of annoyance. The waiter finished speaking, and walked back towards the house. Montez turned back to Sophie.

“Jane, my dear, I’m afraid I have to step away for a few moments. I’m sure Mr. Sullivan and Mr. Drake will be happy to keep you company until I return.”

“Of course,” said Sullivan.

Montez gave Sullivan a distracted nod and followed the waiter.

Sullivan watched Montez leave, and then turned back to Sophie. The smile on his face turned into a huge grin.

“Sophie Devereaux, as I live and breathe!” he said.

 _“Wait, what?”_ said Parker.

 _“Oh, shit,”_ said Nate.

Sophie sighed. “Hello, Sully.”

Sullivan just grinned at her, and stuck the cigar back between his teeth.

Drake was looking back and forth between them. His smile faded. “Sully,” he said slowly. “What the hell is going on?”

 _“Eliot, Sophie’s been made. Get her out of there,”_ said Nate.

 _“Sophie, I’m on my way to you now,”_ said Eliot. _“Start moving towards the stairs.”_

“Nate,” said Sullivan, “Do you remember me telling you about Venice?”

Sophie tossed back the rest of her champagne, and swapped the empty glass for a new flute from a passing tray. She made no move to leave.

“You’ll have to be more specific, Sully,” said Drake. “You’ve told me a lot of stories about Venice.”

“I mean the one where I should have walked out with that little bronze by Donatello,” said Sullivan.

Sophie winced, and took another sip of champagne to hide her expression.

Drake frowned at Sullivan. “You mean the one where you hooked up with the French girl who—” Drake broke off, and turned to Sophie with a look of disbelief.

Sophie smiled, and gave him a little wave with the hand not holding the champagne flute.

 _“Wait, when was this?”_ said Nate.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Drake, staring at her.

“Nope!” said Sullivan. He was still grinning. She was starting to find his cheer a bit worrisome.

Sophie sighed. “Look, Sully,” she said, “I’m sorry about disappearing on you in Venice.”

Sullivan laughed. “I very much doubt that, Sweetheart,” he said. “Still, that was years ago. I’m not one to hold a grudge.”

Drake gave a disbelieving snort.

“But what are you doing _here_?” Sullivan continued.

“Yeah,” said Drake. “I’m guessing that you’re not _actually_ an expert in seventeenth century Spanish documents?”

 _“Eliot, where are you?”_ demanded Nate.

 _“Trying to get through the damn crowd with out drawing_ more _attention to Sophie,”_ said Eliot.   _“Thirty seconds, Sophie!”_

“Damn,” muttered Sophie. “Okay, Sully, you’ve caught me. Yes, I’m working on an angle with Montez.”

Sullivan grinned at her. “I thought so.”

Drake was looking at Sullivan. “Oh, no,” he said slowly. “No. No, Sully. You are not thinking that. You cannot be serious.”

Sullivan turned the grin on Drake. “C’mon, Nate, it’ll be fun. Besides, she’s done so much hard work already.” He looked back at Sophie, who was watching the two of them warily. “What do you say, Sweetheart? Cut us in?”

Eliot slipped around the last few bodies between him and Sophie. “Is there a problem here?” he growled, stepping up beside her.

Drake tensed, but Sullivan’s grin never faded.

“No problem,” said Sophie.

“Great!” crowed Sullivan.

 _“What the hell just happened?”_ asked Hardison.


End file.
